Where Stars Shine, Let Light Flow
by Sarlinia-Grace-Starstriker
Summary: Sarlin's beautiful horse, Lilatha, has been with her through the darkest, most tormented moments of her life. But war claims much, and Lilatha is struck a devastating final blow in the forests of Crystalsong. Sarlin thinks back to many things as her noble steed dies in her arms, the saddest moments they shared...but also the happiest. Dedicated to Ebony, who died not so long ago.


The Blood Elf Sarlin Starstriker's steed, Lilatha, was a fine specimen of a horse. Strong, a sleek, ebony coat, a fast enduring gallop and, above all, undying loyalty for her mistress. Even she knew when Sarlin was distressed. When she cried, Lilatha licked away her tears and nuzzled her sweet, pale face until she eventually calmed down and nuzzled it back, smiling, content, a soft, catlike vibrating coming from her throat. Sarlin loved Lilatha beyond any love she felt for all her standing crusaders. Apart from the black pendant she always wore, the horse was the closest thing to Lydia Starstriker, her adoptive mother, she could possibly ever get.

Together, they galloped through the shattered Crystal Vice and into the beautiful, star-speckled Crystalsong Forest. The whole place glimmered with ice jewels and wonder. She'd give anything to stop and observe, but she was needed at the Argent Vanguard as soon as possible, and couldn't afford any delays. So instead of slowing down, she urged Lilatha to speed up, and they charged through the wondrous forest.

With everything she'd been through since she arrived with the Argent Crusade at Northrend, between losing her friend, Aylis Velane, who fought and apparently died at the Wrathgate, and healing dying soldiers with open, flowing, infected wounds who, more often than not, resisted her treatment, she didn't expect things to get much worse than they already were. She didn't expect the Scourge to dwell in a place as gorgeous as Crystalsong Forest. But as usual, she was wrong. Wrong to relax, wrong to let her guard down, wrong to succumb to tiredness, as Lilatha never did.

She'd forgotten that some of the more intelligent champions of Arthas could use ranged weapons as well as their infections claws and teeth. Just as she'd spotted the skeleton Undead, Lilatha leapt out of its way with a whinny, and Sarlin unsheathed her holy bow, Dawnstriker.

She'd been an archer for a lot longer than a Paladin, and found ways to merge the Light and her ammo. Her faith and blood blessed a strong but basic bow with the Light, which imbued every arrow that passed through it. She named the bow "Dawnstriker" and even engraved the name, with her initials, onto the side. She didn't know of any other Paladin who could do this, and often got criticized for it by the initiates, but at the end of the day, she trained them, not the other way around, and her arrows did just as much damage as a blade or mace would.

She notched an arrow to the blessed bow and fired it at the skeleton. Immediately, it shattered into a burst of golden sparks. Several more stepped forward to take its place, but she was ready. As she fired, Lilatha freely jumping around dodging their own arrows, she didn't miss once. Every arrow exploded in a blast of spreading sparks, and the mindless ambush of the skeletons was drawing towards an end.

Suddenly, Lilatha jolted and Sarlin felt herself lift, unable to respond to the shock quickly enough to hold into her steed's neck, and she flew upwards into the air and rolled onto snowy grass. Her arm cracked at the impact, but she was too vigilant to focus on the pain. Shocked and dazed, she forced herself to her feet and saw the reason for Lilatha's sudden panic; a cursed cannibal. Horrified, she saw that the Undead had already sunk its teeth into Lilatha, and was feeding on her blood.

"No! No!" she screamed, looking around for her bow, which she'd dropped when she was thrown off Lilatha. Sensing there wasn't time, she instead unsheathed the sword she always kept with her and charged towards the cannibal, tearing its head off with the untainted steel.

Then there was silence.

The battle had lasted no longer than a minute and, while Sarlin's instincts willed her to remain on her feet, she knew that there would be none forthcoming to take her by surprise. She'd have felt it in the air, with her blood so hot in battle. So she allowed herself a brief moment's rest and, in her confusion, whistled for Lilatha to join her. That's when she heard a soft, pained wail.

She turned to her steed who lay on the crystallised grass, whinnying in pain. In her side was a large, flowing wound that had already leaked so much blood. Her left hind leg was twisted in an odd angle, clearly broken, and she brayed mournfully, nuzzling Sarlin's hand with her snout.

"No…no…" Sarlin gasped, her breaths becoming even quicker.

She ran towards Lilatha and drew the Light to her fingertips, attempting to close the wound. All the while, her dear companion groaned and wailed with every flash that shuddered through her broken body. After several minutes of healing, Sarlin came to terms with reality; it was hopeless. She was a healer. She was an alchemist. She spent much time closing wounds with the Light and curing infections with her concoctions and salves… but she was realistic. She knew when it was too late to close a wound. She knew when to cease her efforts and comfort the dying hero. It was too late to save her. Too late for her noble steed…

With tears in her eyes, Sarlin abandoned the wound and instead brought herself to Lilatha's head, burying herself in the horse's chest, while Lilatha affectionately licked at her drooping ears, which had tangled strands of her curly black hair looped in them. Sarlin wrapped her arms around Lilatha's neck, much to her soft, agonized brays, and cried bitterly. She was becoming more aware of the pain in her arm, which soon felt like a burning needle looping its thread of fire around her bones, but it didn't compare to the tormenting embers falling from her heart.

"Oh, my little Lil…" she wept, stroking her ebony mane lovingly. The sweet scent of lavender came off her, just as it did the day she'd first made an appearance in her life…

It was Winter's Veil and the Night Elf, Lydia, had taken Sarlin to dine in Silvermoon with her boyfriend, Halis Dawnrunner. It was the finest treat Sarlin could possibly hope for. There was no snow, as she'd heard often appeared during that particular season, but some magi had conjured fake snow and the children were pelting their parents with the stuff. Sarlin, Lydia and Halis had a happy little snowball fight that ended when Lydia accidentally pelted a little Blood Elf girl in the eye and she rolled over and cried. Lydia didn't exactly get ordered away from the area, but she passed the little girl a sweet, which considerably brightened her mood, whispered to the mother that she wasn't good at this kind of thing, and lead Sarlin away, claiming she didn't want to cause any more uproar. Night Elves in Silvermoon were usually killed on sight. If it wasn't for the fact that she was Sarlin's loving guardian, as well as the Farstrider Halis's girlfriend, she wouldn't be permitted to enter the city at all. She was respected, but watched.

After they ate their dinner, Lydia asked Halis if he'd meet her back at the house in Eversong Woods while she took Sarlin for a quick hunt. Sarlin was elated and gathered a bow and arrows from the Farstriders' Square. Lydia took her hand and lead her to the woods. Along the way, Sarlin shot a few hares and squirrels and Lydia brought down a nice, fat lynx. They left them in a bundle by the tree closest to their house, where Sarlin kept her own bow and arrows. She looked at her adoptive mother, who's silver-streaked turquoise waves and dark eyelashes were specked with snow and who's skin was always so perfectly flawless. Even if she did have shadows under her eyes, her leaf-shaped tattoos concealed them. A dark black pendant with her own initials glinted around her neck, a gift from her late sister, Grace Starstriker, after which Sarlin was named; Sarlinia-Grace Starstriker. Standing next to this beautiful, immortal being and knowing that she was her mother, Sarlin felt like such a scruffy mess. Circles under her eyes, frizzy, black hair with a single white streak at the front of the left-hand side of her face, bruises and scratches from the constant climbing of trees and brawling with lynxes, worn leather armour, pale skin…it rarely bothered her, though. Lydia adopted her when she was starving, saved her life, and even left her own people for her. If that wasn't love, Sarlin would never know the meaning of the word.

Lydia took Sarlin's hand and took her further into the woods than normal. She kept smiling blithely, her hair flowing back in the wind. It was only a few moments later, Sarlin knew why.

Standing by a tree, the first tree that Sarlin ever dared to climb, was a beautiful, sleek, young horse. Her coat was glossy ebony, clean and reflecting the falling rays of sunlight, her eyes were deep, chocolate brown, with long lashes, and she was already saddled up. She was a young horse, small and gorgeous, like Sarlin. Without even thinking to extend a hand to the steed's nose, Sarlin rushed up to it and hugged it. Lydia gasped in horror, then sighed in relief as the horse licked the fake snowflakes from Sarlin's fluffy hair. The little elf ignored her mother's nagging words and stared at the steed. Hanging off her neck was a silky, red ribbon with a rolled up message. She slipped the piece of paper out of its scarlet bonds and rolled it open, smiling as she read.

_My dear child, _

_Happy Winter's Veil! It's astonishing to see how much you've grown over the last three years. I am so proud of you, Sarlin. You're my little princess, my darling daughter, and I love you so much. _

_This is Lilatha. Our dear friends, Emberyn and Aylis Velane, breed horses. While you were in training one day, Halis and I decided to pay Ember a visit, and that's when we met little Lilatha. We knew that she'd be perfect for you. She's around the same age as you, you know. She was born shortly before I found you. I think you'll get along just great. _

_Take care of her, my Little Lin. I may be who you call your mother, but a horse is one of the most loyal companions anybody could ask for. She needs to be loved…that's why I knew she was the girl for you. When you gripped my finger the day I met you, I could see a beautiful girl brimming with unused love, love that little Lilatha needs. I have every reason to be proud of you, sweetheart. You deserve Lilatha, but not as much as she deserves you. _

_Happy Winter's Veil, my child. I love you. _

_-Lydia_

Her eyes began to tear up and she threw her arms around her mother, who laughed and picked her up.

"I thought you'd like her," she chuckled.

Sarlin breathed in her beautiful, herbal scent and buried her tear-stained face in her hair, laughing and sobbing hysterically at the same time. Never had she felt as much love for Lydia…and never had she loved a horse so much.

"I meant it, you know," Lydia whispered. "My Little Lin, I am so proud of you…I know you'll be a fine warrior one day. I can see it in you. I love you, my child,"

Sarlin was so choked up, she could barely respond. But when she did, she merely whispered "I love you, too. Thank you, Lydia. Thank you so much…" then she stopped, because she wanted to say more, but knew that she'd only end up sobbing madly again. It was the happiest she'd ever felt.

After Lydia died, Lilatha was all she had for company. Together, they made their living alone in Eversong Woods. Sarlin hunted, Lilatha took her back and forth to the city, and when Sarlin knew that the nightmares she'd contracted from witnessing her mother's death would jerk her too strongly awake to sleep in a tree safely, she snuggled under the blanket that she'd given Lilatha and her beautiful, ebony coat would keep her warm. When she awoke, screaming and kicking in terror, Lilatha would nuzzle her face and lick away her tears until her ears stopped drooping despairingly and she calmed down and returned to sleep.

As time pressed on, Sarlin became even more dependant of Lilatha. As Sarlin developed her skills in battle, Lilatha developed her endurance. Sarlin became an Argent Crusader, and Lilatha became her Argent Warhorse. They both became pets somewhat. Sarlin was so small and young, with eyes as bright and as eager as a little girl's and hands as soft as baby's flesh, while Lilatha was gentle and loving, with breath that could dry even the most despairing of tears. Yet nobody ever doubted them. They were young and tender, but strong. Sarlin's faith in the Light was stronger than even the human Paladins had ever seen in a Blood Elf, and Lilatha was just the steed to accompany her.

All this passed through her head as Lilatha's soft, mint-scented breath attempted to stem the flow of Sarlin's tears, but her pained neighing cut Sarlin deeper than a blade ever could.

"Oh, Lilatha…I'm so sorry…" she whispered, her ears drooping even lower as she hopelessly sobbed into her dying steed's coat.

Sarlin remembered a story her mother told her, about the invasion of Quel'Thalas, and about Arthas. She remembered lying into Lydia's chest one night, as the Night Elf stroked her hair and occasionally kissed her forehead.

"He had a horse, you know, called Invincible," she said. "He was grievously injured one day. So much so that Arthas was forced to kill him. Just to…you know, release him from the misery. End his pain. A merciful kill, if you will. Not a murder, dear,"

"That's horrible. I feel so bad for him…that can't have been easy to endure," Sarlin said. "Why do you tell me this, Minn'da?"

She rarely called Lydia "Minn'da". Often it was only when she felt she needed protecting. Lydia seemed to sense this.

"Because, my child, I fear one day, you will have to endure the same. You must know, by now, when it is too late to save someone. You'll know when they can't be saved, when all you can do is free them…and avenge them,"

Now Sarlin was sure that this was what her mother meant. She probably didn't see Lilatha dying like this…but choices have to be made. And if Lilatha was to be free…death was surely the only key to the chains that bound her to life.

But she wanted Lilatha's last memory to be something she, herself, treasured, for Lilatha had her moments of despair, too. When she did, Sarlin always sang a sweet, soft lullaby she'd concocted herself. She sang the same to her mother when she was ill and in pain. Sometimes, singing it calmed even herself down. So she sang, and doing so, Lilatha neighing weakened.

_Hope does not wane, nor bow down to fear. _

_Evil does not reign when Light does so sear._

_Night is not dark while the star's souls burn bright. _

_Do not lost faith, for your blade it does guide. _

Sarlin had a beautiful voice, haunting beneath the sun, chilling before the snow and calming beside the storm. Lilatha's eyes drooped as she hummed the final note, her falsetto slowing serenely to a close. Her breath fell like a snowstorm upon the frozen air and, despite the screams that could be heard in the distance and the pain in Sarlin's arm, which was increasing with every breath she took, no place had Sarlin ever been felt so beautiful. Nowhere, in all of Azeroth.

Sarlin kissed Lilatha's nose one last time, and allowed the braying horse to lick away the tears that fell as steadily as waterfalls. She reached for her sword and shakily held it to Lilatha's chest.

"I love you so much, my little Lil," she wept, as she sunk the blade into Lilatha's heart.

The horse let out an agonized screech that was hauntingly silenced mere seconds after it had begun. She looked Sarlin in the eye, her chocolate-coloured embers shining with mercy. Sarlin hugged her around the neck, letting the sword slip to the ground, and Lilatha's frail little head went slack.

Although she was urgently needed at the Argent Vanguard, Sarlin allowed herself time to grieve. She pressed her blood-stained fingers to the black pendant around her neck, her final connection to Lydia Starstriker, keeping one hand protectively on Lilatha's mane.

Lydia had always said that she would have to make choices, and it was up to her to decide whether they were right or wrong. Killing Lilatha had surely been the right thing…there was no possible way to treat her, the blood had already ran too fast to heal, and by leaving her there, crying and in agony, she'd be sentencing her noble companion to a slow, painful death. And she couldn't do that.

Lydia's soft, beautiful voice rang in her head.

_You'll know when they can't be saved, when all you can do is free them…and avenge them. _

Sarlin would gladly avenge Lilatha by killing every last zombie that crossed her path…but that's what she was doing anyway. The Argent Crusade's main purpose was to defeat the Scourge, and the gates of Icecrown had already been shattered.

Vengeance was a worthy tool, but cruel. The heart of a Crusader relied on justice, and the heart of the young Blood Elf with eyes of ice and a voice of pure, beautiful serenity, relied on faith. Vengeance, while valid, would always come full circle. Sarlin didn't want to have to get used to such a burden, particularly because she was so young.

As the initial grieving of her beautiful steed passed, she was almost certain her arm was broken. A point pressed against the papery-white flesh and was searing to touch. Allowing herself a moment to wipe away her tears, she rested her good arm on Lilatha's mane, and whispered softly to her.

"Take care of my mother, Little Lil. If I ever see two shooting stars from here at once…I know who'll they'll be,"


End file.
